Arthur: There was a racist incident at my alma mater, Issaquah High, and I have something to say

On April 1, a disturbing message out of Issaquah High School began circulating on social media. In a picture initially posted to Snapchat, two white students from the school are seen posing, and smiling, holding a poster with a slavery reference. less

On April 1, a disturbing message out of Issaquah High School began circulating on social media. In a picture initially posted to Snapchat, two white students from the school are seen posing, and smiling, ... more

Photo: Mahlum

Photo: Mahlum

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On April 1, a disturbing message out of Issaquah High School began circulating on social media. In a picture initially posted to Snapchat, two white students from the school are seen posing, and smiling, holding a poster with a slavery reference. less

On April 1, a disturbing message out of Issaquah High School began circulating on social media. In a picture initially posted to Snapchat, two white students from the school are seen posing, and smiling, ... more

Photo: Mahlum

Arthur: There was a racist incident at my alma mater, Issaquah High, and I have something to say

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On April 1, a disturbing message out of Issaquah High School began circulating on social media.

In a picture initially posted to Snapchat, two white students from the school are seen posing, and smiling, holding a poster that reads, "(Name redacted), if I was black, I'd be picking cotton, but instead I pick you. Tolo?" (Tolo, for context, is an annual dance held at the school).

A reference to slavery, and the belittlement of black people, the remark speaks for itself. It's racist. It's disgusting. It's appalling. An ignorant and misguided attempt at being cute and clever to ask a classmate to a school dance ballooned into community outrage and backlash.

A racially insensitive photo has gone viral showing two IHS students next to a sign that read, "If I was black I’d be picking cotton, but instead I pick you. Tolo?” The district has launched an investigation. https://t.co/oekj7vXb9dpic.twitter.com/68WwQfO4Sk

Around 300 students at the school held a walkout. Every major TV station in Seattle picked up the story. The Seattle-King County chapter of the NAACP issued a statement. Seahawks wide receiver Doug Baldwin expressed his disappointment in a tweet.

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The girl responsible for the racist message and her family have since apologized. The Issaquah School District has also issued a statement, condemning the incident.

"The words and actions of the students involved are not consistent with our beliefs and values as a District and we are truly saddened by the negative impact this has had on our entire community, particularly our students of color," district superintendent Ron Thiele said.

"We want to assure our community that we are conducting a full investigation and will take appropriate steps to address this unfortunate situation and to learn and grow from it."

I bring up this local incident because I have something to add to what's been said. It hit me on a personal level. I'm a black man who attended Issaquah High School. I graduated in 2013.

I'll say first that this incident wasn't the least bit surprising to me, nor was it to my younger sister or to some of my fellow black alums of the school, based on their social media reactions. As a student at Issaquah High School for three years, and a student in the Issaquah School District for 13 years — I spent my entire pre-college education in Issaquah schools — I saw the blind spots and ignorance of some of my peers with regard to race.

Blatant racism was rare, but I heard many times insensitive jokes, remarks and stereotypes —overarchingly defined as microaggressions — about African Americans. I was called an "oreo:" black on the outside, white on the inside. White students used to joke to me that they were "more black" than me, or they'd tell me to act or talk "more black" in certain situations, painting a wide brush on African American mannerisms and culture as "hood" or "ghetto" or of the inner city. I was asked for permission to use the n-word with the "a" ending. There were a couple instances where I was playfully told to go hang out with "my people" when there were gatherings of black students.

It was confusing to deal with these situations internally, and I didn't always know how to react or what to say. It made me question my identity at times. I felt a disconnect from my peers who couldn't understand.

But I don't share this to ask for a pity party. I share this to offer the experience and perspective of a black male who went to a predominantly-white school in a predominantly-white Seattle suburb, and who's seen his alma mater engulfed in an widely-publicized incident involving racist language — again.

Back in 2014, a handful of Issaquah students were responsible for racist slurs — via social media and text messages — targeting Garfield High School's predominantly-black basketball team, cheerleaders and students amid a heated hoop rivalry. The police report showed remarks dotted with the n-word and monkey references. A black female at Garfield was compared to Chewbacca from Star Wars. "Checkmate was when Abraham Lincoln made the mistake of freeing you," one message read.

Tackling the issue starts with addressing the lack of race education in the curriculum.

According to a demographic profile of Issaquah High School this year by the Public School Review, just 1 percent of the student body is black; 64 percent is white. Outside of Asians, who account for 22 percent, no other racial minority exceeds 8 percent.

I was the only black student in most of my classes at the school. I never had a class with more than two other people who looked like me. There were fewer than 20 black faces in my senior class of around 500.

In schools that have significant shortcomings in racial diversity, and don't have the wherewithal to improve it quickly, diversity and equity education must become a core and continuous part of the curriculum. It's paramount. If the students aren't seeing and interacting with racial diversity regularly in school and in their community, how else are they supposed to become more conscious of their racial blind spots? If you're not aware of the experiences of other races, it's easier to be oblivious to or minimize what people of races other than your own find hurtful and degrading. That's a culture that can birth, and tolerate, a slavery reference in a school-dance invite in 2019.

Four years ago the Issaquah School District began working with a consultancy company called "Cultures Connecting" – an organization that teaches diversity and equity in the classroom, according to a KCPQ-13 report. The teachers and administrators have gotten training already, but there's been nothing significant to show for in the classroom in four years. According to the report, there's a two-week unit on diversity in a beginning history class. Why is that all in a school calendar that exceeds nine months? What's the hold up?

Issaquah High School is not the only school that needs to be asking itself these questions; as an alum, it's simply my prism to get this point across. There are schools in every corner of this country that need to be looking at themselves in the mirror. Race is one of the nation's most sensitive topics. The U.S., once laced with wide-spread violent racial discrimination and racist laws, has become a nation inclined to push issues of race under the rug.

Today, society is notorious in saying "this is not who we are" when a racist incident emerges. We respond with outrage and fury, take a couple steps in the immediate aftermath but return to regular programming after the emotion and fervor have diminished. We repeat this cycle without truly tackling the underlying racism issues.

So truth is, these racist incidents do define us. They keep happening. We've created a culture that's tolerant to racial insensitivity. It's in our best interest to accept that that's who we are and vow improvement through continuous programs and initiatives and through our education system. Actions speak. Words mean nothing.

Despite what's happened there, I do not hate my high school. I'm grateful for the incredible education I received at Issaquah High School. I have a lot of fond memories from there. I made some great friendships. I had a blast at senior prom, the only school dance I went to. Some of my old teachers are my friends on Facebook.

But I bring this issue up because I care enough to want change. I want to see my high school be better. Like many other schools, it has a long way to go when it comes to race.

Eric Thomas, a well-known African American motivational speaker, said, "there's probably going to be racism until the day I die, but I'm not going to cry about it" in one of his impassioned speeches. I'm not going to cry about it either.

"I am saddened that this idea was thought of and executed without intervention," Baldwin wrote in his tweet about the incident. "Racism is not just taught, it is encouraged through its tolerance. Let's take this as a reminder not only to be more empathetic, but to hold each other more accountable."

I hope this latest incident at Issaquah High School can be the tipping point that creates the sustained outrage to result in measured change.

If schools can teach young people to understand the impacts of even tolerating racist behavior, maybe the adage will someday be true. Maybe, one day, this won't be who we are.